Crossing The Line
by AtreidesHeir
Summary: Angry and feeling helpless after finding out House has been using morphine, Wilson comes home from work and goes to dinner at the hotel pub. An encounter with a beautiful stranger will change his life forever. House/Wilson friendship.
1. Chapter 1: Desperate Measures

Author's Note: Damn those plot bunnies and their….well plots. I thought of this today at work and I hope that I posted it in time before someone else took the idea.

Crossing the Line

Chapter One: Desperate Measures

House woke up early, and immediately reached to his right for his vicodin sitting on the end table next to the bed. He popped the lid off, tipping two into his palm, quickly swallowing them dry. He laid waiting for a few minutes before they started to kick in, but today was a particularly bad day, and they didn't seem to be helping the spasms in his leg much.

He went about his normal morning routine, starting with a shower that consisted of the hottest water that he could handle. It felt good and did wonders to help relax the aching, tender muscles of his right thigh. He got out carefully, holding onto the safety rail, stepping out onto the bath rug on the floor. He gingerly started wiping the excess water off him, starting with his head, paying careful attention when he got to the leg.

As he finished getting ready, his leg grew increasingly worse, continuing to give him more problems that usual. He finished putting on his right sock, which proved to be almost more trouble than it was worth, grabbed his cane and walked down the hallway into the living room. He started pacing, walking in circles around the couch, trying to take his mind off the pain that just wouldn't seem to go away.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, he gave up and walked over to the chair and sat down. He dumped two more Vicodin into his palm, and dry-swallowed them, making a face as they went down. He tucked the bottle back into his pocket and went back to pacing. He grew irritated and desperate, reaching down several times to massage the angry muscles, before he decided that desperate measures needed to be taken.

He walked over to the corner and grabbed the rusty step stool, dragging it over to the bookshelf with great effort. He grimaced, almost holding his breath, fighting off the pain, and he climbed higher and higher on the ladder. He got to the top step and reached up to the top of the bookcase, knocking books here and there until he found what he was looking for.

He wrapped his large hands around the lock box, holding it close to his chest as he slowly, painfully, descended back down the stairs. When he finally got to the bottom, he was in excruciating pain and was nearly exhausted as trembling hands began entering the combination. As the combination was completed, it sprung the lock and he opened the box carefully.

He reached inside pulling out a syringe, tourniquet, and a vial. He sat looking at the morphine, rolling it in his hands, before finally grabbing the syringe and inserting it in the vial. He drew up the dosage, and sat the syringe back on the table in front of him, as he produced the tourniquet. He rolled up his left sleeve, placed it three inches above his elbow, and tightened it.

He turned over his arm, looking at the inside of his elbow, searching for the vein. He grabbed the syringe, tapped it, depressed the plunger just enough to let the remaining air and little fluid out, then placed it in his mouth in-between his teeth. He looked down again, found the vein, tapped it with his index finger, and then lowered the syringe, preparing to break the skin. The needle went in easily, finding its mark on the first try. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, holding the breath as nervousness and anxiety started to take hold.

He released the breath and slowly began to push the morphine into his system. He was almost finished and was starting to feel the intoxicatingly, warm, fuzzy feeling of pain being swept away, when he heard a knock at the door. He stopped the injection and sat as still and silent as stone, listening.

A moment later the knock came again and he recognized it immediately. Wilson.

His body instinctively started to pump adrenaline as he went into panic mode. He looked down at the syringe, and then back at the door.

_Shit. Shit….Shit!_

"Hang on a second," he said loudly as he started pushing the remaining morphine into his veins again. He was finished and had started to remove the syringe when he heard Wilson shuffling around and then the unmistakable sound of a key being inserted into his front door.

"I **said** hang on a minute!" he said as he grabbed the syringe and vial, shoving them both back into the box. He reached for the tourniquet, and gasped as it ripped the hairs out as he snapped it off his arm. The effects of the drug started to hit him as he shoved the plastic band back into the box and slammed the lid shut, having just enough time to roll down his sleeve as Wilson opened the front door.

Wilson entered cautiously, and sighed when he saw House sitting in the chair in the corner.

"Hey, didn't you hear me knock?" he asked casually.

"Hey, didn't you hear me tell you to wait a minute?" House shot back, a little more anger in his voice than he had intended.

Wilson stood for a moment looking at him with a confused look on his face. "I just came for the DVD player that you **still** haven't returned," he said as he walked towards House.

"Fine, take it and go, I've got to pee," House said trying not to snap as he got up from the chair and walked past Wilson towards the hallway. He made it about three steps before Wilson's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"House, you're bleeding," he said with a mix of confusion and concern clearly in his voice. House stopped, but did not turn around. "Your left arm, on the inside of the sleeve," he said pointing.

House stayed with his back against Wilson and looked down. _Shit._ He had forgotten to put anything on the wound, and it had bled from the injection site, leaving a red stain about the size of a quarter on his light blue dress shirt.

"Oh, I got my STD test yesterday and the stupid nurse took three sticks before she finally got me. Damn vampires," he mumbled, starting to walk down the hallway. "Damn thing has been inching like crazy, I must have been scratching it and didn't realize that I popped the scab off," he said over his shoulder.

_Just make it to the bathroom_, he thought to himself.

"House…," Wilson started to say, but the only thing that happened was House increased his pace.

When House didn't stop or turn to face him, Wilson instantly felt that something was wrong. He bolted towards the hallway, trying to stop him.

"Hey!" Wilson said. House had almost made it to the bathroom, when Wilson caught up with him, reaching out and grabbing his left arm, preventing him from making it through the door. They stood for a moment, staring at each other, brown eyes against blue. Wilson was the first to look down at the arm that he had firmly in his grip, then back up at House.

As Wilson held his arm, quietly examining him, House looked away, but didn't move or say a word. He knew he was caught.

Wilson swallowed thickly. "You just had your test. I drew the blood myself," he said cautiously. With that, House jerked his arm away, stepped forward and tried to shut the door on him. But Wilson was too quick and pushed it open again, causing House to fall forward a few steps, almost losing his balance.

The drug was really starting to affect him and he was having trouble standing as he staggered towards the bathroom sink. Wilson watched him as he put both hands on the base, and lowered his head, breathing in deeply letting the morphine alleviate his pain.

He stood for a moment, Wilson watching his every breath, before he raised his head and looked at him through his reflection in the mirror. Their eyes met, and Wilson grew alarmed when he saw how dilated House's pupils were. He quickly put two and two together, his anger and fear building.

"What did you take?"

House shook his head. "Vicodin. My leg hurt."

Wilson took a step closer and House shifted a step away from him.

Cautiously Wilson took another step forward and as he did he noticed his best friend's breaths becoming faster. House looked away and shut his eyes, swallowing again.

"This isn't from the Vicodin. What did you take?" he asked louder.

"Didn't you come here for a DVD player," House asked nonchalantly.

"Yeah, like I really care about the damn DVD player now," he said taking another step forward. As he did, House took another step away, ending up almost leaning up against the wall.

"House," Wilson said softly. He tried to reach out for him again, but House snatched his arm away, swerved around him and bolted for the bathroom door. Again, he did exactly what Wilson had expected him to do, and he was one step ahead. He grabbed for his arm, got it and held tight.

"House, tell me what is going on. Please."

House tried to yank his arm free, but Wilson wouldn't let go. He pushed him up against the wall and pinned him there. House struggled for a moment before finally giving in. He was reeling from the morphine, but Wilson was quickly taking away what little release it brought.

"Let me go," he said his face looking down, avoiding Wilson's eyes.

"Not until you tell me what you took."

House looked up and met his gaze. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but this is my house, and I want you to leave," he said coldly.

"Tell me what you took," Wilson said more forcefully, pushing House harder up against the wall.

"Get out," House said through gritted teeth.

"Are things that bad that you're shooting up now?" Wilson asked incredulously.

"You don't know anything!" House shot back.

"I don't know anything because you won't tell me anything!"

"Even if I did, you'd just say it was all in my head, like last time. Hell, you even opened up your big mouth and told Cuddy what was going on. Even she didn't believe me when I went to her, begging like a pathetic cripple for help!" House spat back.

Wilson's eyes grew large, and he released his grip on House, stepping a few feet back.

He stood for a second, his eyes darting back and forth, his brow furrowing. House started to move to leave the room when Wilson's eyes shot back at him, searching for answers.

"Morphine?" he asked slowly. His eyes didn't leave House for a second, but the silence between the two of them told him what he needed to know. "Cuddy told me that you came to her for morphine…."

"I don't want to talk about this," House said pushing him aside, Wilson letting him go. He didn't know where he was going, but he had to get away. He needed to be anywhere but where he was, anywhere but where Wilson was. He walked out of the bathroom, leaving Wilson standing there staring at him as he turned sharply to the right, into his bedroom and shut the door. Wilson heard the lock being turned and sighed deeply.

Wilson walked out of the bathroom and into the living room over to the TV cart. He quickly unplugged the power cord and AV cables, wrapped them around the DVD unit, tucked it under his arms as he opened the front door, and then walked out, slamming it behind him.


	2. Chapter 2: Accidental Encounters

Author's Note: I changed the very end of the first paragraph to better fit the storyline that I've decided to go with. You might want to go back and read it over so that you aren't confused. Thanks for reading and as always, feedback is very important if you want another chapter.

Crossing the Line

Chapter Two: Accidental Encounters

After leaving House's place Wilson went to the hospital and started his day like he normally did. He tried not to think too much about what he had witnessed that morning at House's apartment, and decided not to say anything to Cuddy until he had all the facts.

His day went by slow and when it was finally time for him to leave for work he was exhausted. He arrived back at the hotel, feeling a sense of emptiness wash over his as he walked into his room.

He has originally planned to only stay for a few weeks, but renting out the room, which was supposed to be temporary, had became his permanent address for the time being, due to convenience. He could trash the place, leave the bed a mess and at the end of the day when he came back he had fresh bed sheets, a clean bathroom and everything was nice and neat. He had free internet and cable and could order food and have it delivered right to his room without even leaving.

However the room was too neat, nothing personal other than his clothes in the closet and dresser adorned any of the furnishing and he still had most of his stuff in storage. The hotel room was basically a place for him to sleep, eat and shower.

He sat down on the bed and frowned as his stomach growled loudly. Realizing that he hadn't eaten a very filling lunch, he quickly decided that for once, he didn't want to eat alone tonight. He grabbed his jacket and keys off the desk next to the window, before he could change his mind and took the elevator down to the pub inside the hotel which served food as well as drinks.

He had already finished his first beer and was waiting on his double bacon cheeseburger with onion rings when he noticed the pretty brunette sitting alone at the end of the bar looking over his way. He made eye contact with her and smiled, his grin getting bigger when she smiled back and motioned for him to join her.

Things progressed fast from there, after dinner and a few more drinks he ended up in her hotel suite in bed with her. A part of his brain cautioned him that he had just met her and knew nothing about her, but almost all of the blood supply to the rational part of his body had pooled into his groin.

Neither lasted long, the sex was fast and incredibly satisfying, especially for Wilson, after sustaining without for so long. After they had finished he left her in bed almost asleep and exhausted as he snuck into the bathroom to take a shower. He wanted to wash away the sticky sweat that kept her soft smell lingering on him, and if he was honest with himself, a touch of his guilt.

He took less time than usual, hoping that he could just grab his jacket and slip it on, sneaking out without her even waking up. Carefully he edged open the bathroom door, allowing a thin line of light to illuminate the room, allowing him to find his discarded clothes. He tip-toed over to the edge of the bed and bent down to pick them up, glancing at the sleeping form still in bed.

Quietly he began to slip on his underwear, pants, and then began to put on his shirt. As he raised his arms to pull the shirt over his head he felt a sudden, intensely sharp pain in the left side of his lower back. He gasped and felt someone's hand grab him on his right shoulder, to get leverage, and then the pain came again.

He fell to the ground, gasping and choking. Reaching behind to where he had felt the pain, he drew back his hand and saw dark, red blood staining his hand. He swallowed and started breathing quicker, panicking. He tried to lay still and as quiet as possible as his assailant dropped the knife used to stab him and then fled the room.

He could tell that he had been stabbed deeply, blood gushing from his wound and he was starting to feel faint. Suddenly he remembered that the women he had just slept with was still in the bed. He crawled, gasping each time he moved, slowly towards the bed and mustered the energy and will to pull himself up onto the bed.

He found her lying on her back, the covers pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were shut and she appeared to be sleeping, until he pulled the covers down and saw that she had been slashed across the neck and stabbed in the chest several times.

Shaking he grabbed the room phone and managed to dial "O" before passing out due to blood loss and shock.

The hotel staff found them both half-clothed in the suite and called the paramedics and the police. Both victims were taken by ambulance to the hospital, the women going into cardiac arrest twice on the way before being pronounced dead shortly after arriving at the hospital.

Wilson was taken into a trauma room and the doctors began working on him. He had lost a large amount of blood and didn't regain consciousness until he had been at the hospital for several minutes. The doctors were monitoring his vitals when they suddenly plummeted. The nurse gasped and quickly pulled up the bag attacked to the Foley catheter that had been inserted into Wilson upon admission, it was full of urine…and blood.

The doctors immediately took action and had him wheeled upstairs to the O.R. where they further assessed his condition. He had received two 7 inch stab wounds to the lower left quadrant of his back, one of them nearly nicking his spinal cord, the other doing damage to his spleen that had to be repaired. He had also lost a lot of blood and had to have a transfusion.

Two and a half hours after he had been found almost dead on the hotel bed, the doctors had him fully stabilized and he had been placed in the I.C.U. The doctors that had worked on him had told him that he was lucky; with time and physical therapy he would make a full recovery. When he asked about the women he had been with, they broke the bad news to him she had died shortly after arriving at the hospital despite their best efforts.

As Wilson lay in bed Cuddy had authorized some visitors, and he vaguely remembered her, House, Chase and Cameron stopping by to visit him. He could tell that they were worried about him, but he couldn't remember most of what had happened and as they talked to him, he began to nod off. The pain medication and sedative, compounded with exhaustion and blood loss had made him sleepy and as his visitors left for the night he faded off into a dreamless drug-induced sleep.


End file.
